


Bonds Beyond the Stars

by FeelingDreamy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-01-30 22:22:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21435646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelingDreamy/pseuds/FeelingDreamy
Summary: Nicole was 17 when she was abducted by the Galra. After being thrown into an Arena and forced to fight for her life, she catches the Prince's eye. On a whim, he decides to make her his protege, inspired by Nicole's ruthlessness and hunger for revenge. Against her better judgement, Nicole begins to develop feelings for her captor. But are Lotor's feelings for her actually genuine?
Relationships: Lotor/OC
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi ~Dreamers! I finally decided to get with the 21st century and join AO3, so I'm beginning to move my works over from FanFiction to Archive, just in case any of ya'll recognize my stories lol. I usually kinda turn my author's notes into a sort of diary to let those of you that care (and bless you all) how I'm doing. But because I just retyped this entire chapter that likely still needs a decent amount of editing, I'll just let you guys enjoy for now!  
Happy reading guys! And please let me know what you think!

Chapter 1

Your late Grandmother was the reason your mother moved to Florida in the first place. Your Nana was as much of a dreamer as both you and your mother. Perhaps its genetic. Originally from New England, your Nana was weary of the cold winters and rainy weather, seeking instead sunny skies and sand between her toes. You were only a toddler when your mother relocated the family to Florida. Now seventeen and having grown tired of the intense humidity, you craved instead mountainous landscapes and snow, annoyed with the flat swampy terrain of central Florida. 

You had never been camping before, and had begged for a trip to Montana for your birthday. You hadn't flown a plane in years, you felt like a little kid when you and your mother had taken off, glued to the window as the ground rushed away beneath you, the view soon melting into endless clouds and sky. Your mother eventually fell asleep in the seat beside you sometime into the first hour of your flight. Her peaceful sleeping face is one of the last memories you have of her.

You attempted and failed to read a book you had brought with you, but the fiery sunset unfolding in the limitless expanse of sky outside your tiny window drew your gaze outward. A blanket of clouds stretched out below reflected the brilliance of the orange setting sun. It was as if someone had set the sky ablaze. Uncaring of what happened to your eyes, you settled in to watch the sun's vibrant yellows and reds peak in vibrancy, before ultimately fading into deep hues of violet and blue. Stars snuck into view as they dotted the night horizon, no longer obscured by the light of the sun. The moon's faint glow painted itself into the sky as if by a feathery hand, a soft white crescent dominating the night. The crescent moon in the sky mirrored the faint white moon tattoo on your left wrist (your mother had been furious, but had gotten over it soon enough). You have always loved anything concerning the sky, be it the weather or anything regarding the astral bodies that danced around the Earth.

A red light came into view then, and you curiously watched it draw nearer, at first believing it to be another airplane. But then an enormous purple ship cam into view, and a silent beam of red light shot out from it. There was no time to think, no time to react, nothing any of the three hundred passengers or crew could have done to save yourselves. In one second, you were flying peacefully. In the next, the plane was being violently being split in half, killing those unfortunate enough to be seated in the middle. Or perhaps they were the lucky ones.

Screaming, fire, wind, falling. Your mother woke in time to be ripped out of your arms mid-fall, the wind too extreme for either of you to keep hold of one another. Unable to hear her as the distance between you grew, the only bit of words you were able to read from her lips was a faint "I love you." You only managed to scream or flail around for her, both of your cries and tears stolen by the wind.

However, a second beam of light stopped the fall of around twenty passengers, yourself included. And then you were floating upwards, and toward the opening of the horrifying ship. Survivors watched helplessly as the remnants of the plane and fellow passengers and loved ones plummeted into the abyss of the cloudy canopy below in a rush of metal and flailing limbs and fire.  
Apart from those of you who were abducted, it is unlikely any of the others would survive the fall. The only thing awaiting the rest at an elevation of 30,000 feet was suffocation from lack of oxygen, or impact with the ground.

* * *

What you assumed to be were months pass by, the days and nights blending together with no dawn or dusk to match the passage of time. Only the dim purple glow of the prison lights illuminated the bleakness of your new reality. You and the surviving passengers gathered that you had been captured by the ruthless beings known to the rest of the universe as the Galra, a universe you now know was far from empty.

Standing a hair over five feet in height, your burly captors averaged a full one to two feet taller than you and most of the others you were captured with. Ignoring the fact that each guard was heavily armed with what looked like a type of gun or blaster, it was unlikely what few prisoners still able-bodied enough to fight stood much of a chance. The rations were usually only one meal a day, enough to survive, but not packed with near the nutrients or the calories to keep apparently any race of alien around you healthy. Excluding the human children and elderly taken with you, that left you humans with about twelve people who still had any strength left to even dram of making a stand. Of those twelve, yourself included, there were only about three you actually trusted not to sacrifice you fr their own benefit. Three to twelve puny humans were no where near enough strength required to take down an entire Galran prison ship.

In the large interludes between being studied and unspeakably tortured, the only solace any of you found included reminiscing of home, or conversing with fellow inmates from distant planets. Some of them came from worlds of ice and fire, and hearing about their strange ways and customs helped to keep you relatively sane. Some of them were kind enough to share their knowledge of food with us, explaining in detail what exactly each of the alien rations were to those of you too afraid to even attempt to eat it.

And even as your fellow humans bean to die due to exposure, sickness and malnutrition, you tried to hold onto some sliver of hope. There had been some inmates who had heard rumors of small resistance movements stepping into the light, who had allied themselves with what sounded like a mystical being. A flying robot mech they called Voltron. At first you thought that it was some sort of legend or fairy tale, created and tossed around between the prisoners to give them some semblance of hope where their admittedly was none. But when you head that the Paladins of the Lions of Voltron were confirmed to be humans, you had reason to believe the rumors to be true. They were supposedly some sort of do-gooders, and you prayed that if they were that they would one day break into the prison and save you all. A pipe dream maybe, but surely they would rush to the aid of their own kind if they caught wind of humans being held captive on a Galra warship.

But as more months blended by, you stopped hoping for a rescue of any kind. Even if this Voltron were real, you rationalized that the Paladins would be far too busy fighting Emperor Zarkon to have time to break into each and every of the many, many Galra prisons each time they learned of a handful of prisoners of war.

After what you could only assume was a year later, marking about two years in the prisons, the barely surviving inmates and you were informed that you would soon be transported to the Arena, like lambs to the slaughter. The guards conveniently didn't elaborate. You and the other inmates were about to become some sick form of entertainment for the Galra, who were supposedly some "advanced race." Advanced race your ass.

These monsters murdered your mother, and countless trillions over thousands of years, perhaps even eons of genocide and carnage across the galaxy. As if that wasn't enough, now they were going to watch all of you prisoners be torn apart likely by beings much stronger and more physically adapted than you were for fucking kicks. Just what sort of chance would a human being have against a being several times their size, against species genetically enhanced to do nothing but kill?

A few days after receiving the grim news, more prisoners were thrown into our cell, which at first was nothing unusual. Except that one was a human boy. His name was Matt, and he had an injured knee, which he blamed on the Arena, though he understandably didn't elaborate. His very presence was just the boost in morale the humans needed, as if Matt himself were living proof that if even a skinny human teen could survive in the Arena, than maybe there was hope for the rest of the Earthlings.

Matt told us not to lose hope, and of the stories he had learned of fellow resistances rising up against the Galra, though the hope he proclaimed did not fully reach his eyes.

Now feeling as if you could finally see some light at the end of this dark, endless tunnel, the hundred or so inmates that remained began the preparations to plan a prison riot. Hopefully some of the other aliens with you knew how to fly a Galra ship should the riot succeed, but the lt of you wordlessly decided to cross that bridge if you came to it.

You missed the blue oceans of Earth, but you would do anything for some form of piece again, no matter what moon or distant planet the steep price of freedom may lead you.


	2. Chapter 2

Lotor

It angered the Prince greatly to know that there would always exist those who wished to oppose him, but it vexed him far further to always be compared to his father Emperor Zarkon. Prince Lotor had long grown weary of Lord Zarkon's petty quest for power, as well as his ruthless means of achieving any poor semblance of it. Enslaving entire races and obliterating their home worlds, while continuing to rule such an outdated fascist dictatorship the Empire had long ago created did not appeal to Lotor in the least. 

Though he was inescapably his father's son, his more slightly build and angular facial structure advertised to all that he was of mixed blood, a half breed. As Lord Zarkon's son, he was not openly ridiculed, but people talk, and all rumors eventually reached his ears. To further rub it all in their faces, and to taunt others who dared question his motives due to the nature of his bloodline, Prince Lotor surrounded himself with other half breeds.

To anger his enemies even further, all of his Generals were physically female. Designating not only Galra half breeds but also the ''lesser'' sex of their race as the top ranking Generals in his innermost circle was practically a slap in the face to the Empire. 

And after one of his Generals found evidence of betrayal within his ranks, Prince Lotor was quick to put the officer in his place. While Lotor displayed his skill as a fighter and as a swordsman in the Arena, his Generals had masqueraded as onlookers in the crowd, cornering the would be traitor in the stands above.

Having all hid in plain sight, Lotor and his Generals effortlessly scripted a grandiose reveal, only temporarily sparing the officer in order to win over the masses. 

But only temporarily. 

Satisfied with the outcome of the officer's mow numbered days, the Prince set a course for the distant colonies at the edges of the Empire, whose planets had been reported to be organizing a growing Rebellion. All of their antics seemed to be fueled by both the Empire's and Lotor's latest headache: Voltron.

However, merely a quintent into his flight and Lotor was being summoned back to the Arena, when word of a prison riot was rumored to be planned among the latest shipment of prisoners. Deciding on a whim that Voltron could be allowed to live for a while longer, Lotor put his visit to the Colonies aside for the time being, before changing his course and heading back to the Arena.

* * *

Nicole

As luck would have it, the prison riot had failed. At the last minute, over half of the inmates chickened out, because the bastard Prince had shown his face, favoring their chains instead of an unlikely taste of freedom. The few that were still willing to fight decided against their genocide, knowing that the only thing they all had were their numbers. Matt's inured knee had been deemed healed enough to force him to fight, but he was slated just after you.

Something seemed to snap within you then, and you no longer cared about the prison riot, or deluding yourself that you would ever be free again, or see the sky again, or snow for the first time, or even mountains. As soon as you hugged Matt goodbye and both of you wished one another well, a burning rage unlike anything you have ever felt seemed to take over you.

You had been preparing to fight, standing in line with your fellow inmates in a dark tunnel at the base of the Arena. The blinding stadium lights intruded upon the somber atmosphere, blurring your vision of the thousands of Galra pigs roaring from the stands above. To Hell with every damned one of them, betting on people's lives as if they were nothing. Proclaiming that they were some advanced and sophisticated society. Fucking animals.

Fuck every single one of them.

The plan had been to start a riot when being transported from the cells to the Arena, don't get caught and don't get shot, then hijack the first ship you guys saw and then escape from Alcatraz. You heard cheers from above you as someone stole the show, probably that Prince Lotor the guards were all in a tizzy about.

As you all made it through the too short tunnel and squinted through the glare of the stadium lights above, what you cold only describe as a wolf like monster came into view. A wolf-like creature was foaming at the mouth, blood dripping from its shark like teeth. But instead of fur, the wolf had scales and skin that looked like leather. It was a lot bigger than a wolf, like a bear. The outcome of the fight had been obvious, with the humanoid fish creature being carried off on a stretcher, its throat ripped out as it fought to breathe.

You locked eyes with the fish creature that you thought could potentially be female, and they locked eyes with you. You watched as their eyes became dead and lifeless, their last breath leaving their body in a wheeze as the crowd only roared louder. Once the medics realized the vanquished soul was deceased, they wasted no time in feeding it to the wolf creature.

You turned back to the other inmates, your sorrow bubbling away into acid and hatred. Buy instead of offering all of them a smile or encouraging words of farewell, you chose to burn your existence into their minds with the most menacing glare you could manage.

"And now I'm probably going to be mauled to death by that fucking poor excuse for a dog because all of you fucks were too cowardly to make a stand for yourselves. I only wish Matt well, but if none of you wretches meet the same fate as me when you're all thrown into the Arena, then I hope you all rot in your cells."

Matt found it hard to believe that this was the same girl who had risked starvation in attempt to share her rations with a pregnant woman whom the guards had raped months ago. Who had suffered from nightmares for weeks when both the woman and the baby had ended up dying anyway. Who had shared her sole blanket with the other inmates when they didn't have enough to go around. His heart would have gone out to you, knowing that you were probably hurting and angry and scared, but something in your eyes seemed to strike a terror into him like he had never known before, even with all that he had been through over the last year in a half.

The guards threw you into the Arena then, and you felt all of the color drain from your face as you came face to face with the beast. He began to circle you like a tiger would its prey, waiting only for the referee's permission to tear you apart. You numbly rose to your feet, risking a glance away from the monster to take in your surroundings. The terrain was rocky, with only a few boulders scattered about the space to offer some form of camouflage or momentary protection.

Oh yeah, you never got to see mountains.

This is typically the point where most people probably start begging for their lives, or maybe where it starts flashing before their eyes. But you were far too angry to cry. Rage burned through your body like a feverish flame.

To Hell with the Galra and their disgusting Empire. To Hell with that Lord Zarkon who had supposedly orchestrated it all, and his damned son Prince Lotor. Damn them both for the genocide of entire species form the shadows of their royal fucking chairs. To Hell with the bastards that had kidnapped you, and threw you into the Arena to be slaughtered like pigs. To Hell with the cowardly inmates who damned you because of their own will for self-preservation.

_ **To Hell with the bastards who had murdered your mother.** _

* * *

Lotor

He had arrived before the next round of matches, sending his Generals off to investigate the Arena undercover, concerning the supposed prison riot that dragged him back. Lotor made his way to a private booth at the highest part of the crowd, attempting to make himself comfortable. While he was essentially strapped to leave for a time, Lotor hoped that at least one of the matches could sate his boredom. 

Lotor watched as a species of beast he had never encountered slaughtered the three souls unlucky enough to be pitted against it. It appeared canine in shape, with the skin of a reptile. Like either of the two animal kingdoms, the beast had claws and teeth that would prove lethal to anyone who lacked the skill to avoid them. Despite its size, the joint's of the animals legs made the beast incredibly fast and agile. Deadly. 

The masses seemed to favor the beast, which was currently undefeated, though Lotor himself was confident he would make quick work of the creature, without even breaking a sweat. It was covered in the blood of its previous victims, and Lotor found himself rapidly losing interest in watching the abomination kill anything else. 

Then the beast's next opponent stepped into the Arena. 

Prince Lotor took in the pale creature's short stature, long, wavy dark hair, and slight curves that identified it as female. Another human. He recognized the species as human due to the security footage captured of the Paladins infiltrating several Galran strongholds. He had combated their Lions once personally to gauge their skills and power, but Lotor had not seen a physical human in person. This was the first time any humans had been shipped in.

The Prince had not expected much of the girl, but committed to watching the match after all, if only to study the species of his newest enemies.

It was usually easy for Lotor to discern a species social standing based on how they carried themselves, both in their movements and in their strategies in battle. Species who ha been civilians on their home worlds typically tended to be clumsier, giving in to their fearful emotions far more often than those who were clearly more trained in combat. Soldiers of any race seemed to have better coordination, and more robotic, practiced movements, their skills honed over time. 

However, this little human girl threw him. Her wild unkempt hair framed bloodthirsty eyes, as her slim figure took on a stance that looked as equally offensive as it did defensive. Feet spread apart, knees bent, and small fists raised by twig like wrists. The girl stood waiting. Ready. Despite her obvious youth, the girl did not appear at all afraid, though Lotor was certain she must have been.

Her very aura was the essence of hatred and malice, radiating off her body in waves that were practically tangible. Lotor could not decide whether or not she was a civilian or a soldier at first glance, though he did not think it would matter in the end. He would wait to see how the human would fare in battle. He wondered vaguely just how long she would last against the beast. 

A siren blared overhead, signaling to all the start of the match. The wolf like animal wasted no time in charging the girl, who had yet to move from her chosen stance. Had she foolishly let her fear cripple her like so many others in her place? How boring. 

But just as the reptile closed in on her, the girl's stance relaxed, and she let her hands fall to her sides limply. Was she giving up? The beast leapt into the air, teeth bared as it launched itself at her throat. With a graceful sweep of her leg, the girl dodged the attack with a simple, fluid movement. The beast attacked her again and again, and each time the girl managed to avoid its attacks, with similar, almost dance like movements. When it was obvious that the creature was becoming frustrated, the monster threw itself at her again. This time the beast smashed a boulder into pieces, and varying sized rocks rained down all around them both. One chunk struck the girl in the head, and another larger rock came down upon her shoulder. She went down hard, and the beast was actually sentient enough to take the time to gloat to the crowd, beating its chest in triumph.

The girl wasn't moving.

The smirk that had somehow found its way to Lotor's lips disappeared at once. 

The referee stepped out, trying to call the match and name the beast as victor yet again, thinking the human woman to be dead.

"...**Don't you dare**...**call this match**," the girl warned, blood streaming from her shoulder and down her back, as well as down the side of her face from the blow she had taken to the head. "**I'm not done with that abomination yet!**" 

The beast roared angrily, this time thinking only of ripping the human wretch to shreds. 

And again, the girl slipped past his onslaughts, leading the beast father and farther backwards. It leapt at her again, but this time the beast had become carried away with its own momentum, impaling itself on a sharp boulder shaped like a spike. 

Lotor's smirk had returned, amused. The girl had fought through the pain of her wounds only to declare war on the monster a second time, instead of keeping quiet and possibly living. The human had used the terrain of the Arena to her advantage, while her opponent hardly had enough brainpower to realize its pray was not, indeed dead, let alone pay attention to its own surroundings. A mistake that would prove to be fatal. 

Wasting no time, the girl scaled a large cluster of rocks and boulders, some scraping at her hands and feet, until she towered over the beast, who tried in vain to wrench itself free from the rock protruding from its chest, effectively holding it in place. The human boldly leapt onto its back, before producing a knife from the holster on her hip. Of all of the exotic and interesting weapons she could have chosen from, the girl had chosen a rather small knife. Though it was indeed a simple weapon, it was likely one of the few the girl was actually strong enough to wield, now that Lotor thought about it. Or perhaps she hadn't even recognized any of the other weapons granted to her during the Arena. 

Lotor watched as the floating cameras below zeroed in on the girl's face, watched as several expressions crossed over her features. Fear, sadness, eyes pleading for some - no, any other outcome - before rage dominated her features once again. Raising her tiny blade into the air for all to see, the girl finally found her resolve, before plunging the metal of her knife into the throat of the beast, twisting and jerking it deep beneath the monster's scales. With a horrid squelching sound, the girl slit the beast's throat, before wrenching the knife out on the other side of its thick neck. It was obvious to Lotor that she had attempted to perhaps slit the beast's throat mercifully, but its leathery skin and tough scales to prove so troublesome.

The reptile went limp beneath her, before crashing to the ground with a resounding thud, with her still perched menacingly atop its back. The creature's blood spewed everywhere, and all over the girl, its blood's differing color mixing with her own. By the way her hands quivered and shook at her sides, this was obviously the girl's first kill. 

After their initial shock, the crowd was won over, roaring and cheering for the girl, erupting in cries of excitement and praise, their previous favorite long forgotten. The referee foolishly jogged over to the girl as she numbly climbed down from atop the beast, raising her uninjured arm high into the air in recognition and celebration of her incredible victory as the masses continued to cheer. 

"Behold, our new Champion: _____ of Earth!" the overweight referee bellowed. 

_'So, _____ was her name,'_ Lotor mused, having not caught it earlier, though he was unsure if they had ever announced it. The Prince stood and made to leave his booth so that he may rondezvous with his Generals concerning the supposed prison riot, and perhaps even pay the human a visit if he was feeling up to it.

But he noticed that the girl was still holding the knife.

The human girl laughed eerily, sounding so broken and utterly defeated despite her incredible victory, tears streaming down her pale, blood covered face. She sliced the blade into the back of the referee's knee, tearing through tendons and ligaments. Once he was on the ground and down to her level, she thrust the knife into the referee's throat and did to him what she did to the beast.

And he became her second victim. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three 

-Lotor-

Lotor rose to his feet at the sight of the girl assaulting the unsuspecting referee, and acted swiftly. 

"Guards," he called over his shoulder to summon them, but not taking his eyes from the vicious girl in the Arena. 

"Sire!" reported two sentries in unison, ready to receive their commands, but Lotor would never mistake their stiff obedience as loyalty. 

"Throw the human into Solitude," he ordered them. "Alive. I wish to have an audience with her." Behind him, the guards exchanged questioning looks, wondering exactly what kind of punishment the Prince had in mind for the girl. But they did not know Lotor, and what he truly had planned for her.

* * *

-You-

The next hing you knew, you were waking up. Had you passed out? 

A vague memory of fog bubbled up through the drowsiness, and then your body was falling. You remember hitting the ground, before being roughly dragged out of the Arena by your arms. The bastards had gassed you.

You took a moment to take in your new surroundings. The artificial purple glow of the dim lights overhead, and the metal bars that caged you revealed you were back in a cell. There were no prisoners within sight or earshot, and you were entirely alone. A Galran form of Isolation?

Sitting up sorely you checked the damage, clutching at your wounded shoulder, surprised to find that it had been bandaged. You reached up, and so had your forehead. Why would the Galra bother keeping you alive after killing one of their own? Perhaps they were keeping you alive for the sake of the crowd? Or to be tortured publicly? 

Your head buzzed with a hundred questions, but the swishing sound of a metal door and footsteps abruptly ended your thoughts. Heartbeat quickening, your breathing slowed, your body instinctively readying itself to fight, as the familiar ice of adrenaline leaked into your veins. For a few agonizing seconds, your entire world revolved around who or what was walking through that door, how many there would be, and what the Hell they wanted with you.

You were graced with the towering figure of a man, who stood several heads taller. He looked Galran, with the same deep lavender skin, but his eyes appeared more human than the others. He had the same yellow sclera, but he also had slit, navy pupils. His ears were not fluffy like other Galrans you had seen, but pointy and elf like. Perhaps he was a mixed breed?

He had long, snowy white hair, and striking facial features you may have called handsome if he hadn't been one of them. The man was accompanied by four other guards, and they stood a bit behind him. You deducted that he must be a much higher class for the guards to be so rigid. 

The smugness of his entire demeanor radiated off of him like a furnace, and you instantly decided not to trust this man.

* * *

-Lotor-

The Prince had not known what to expect when confronting the girl, but there was something about her that had undeniable drawn him in. She had admittedly fought well enough, given her species and scrawny stature, but simultaneously with grace and like a raging animal. Lotor craved to see what she was like in person. Rather than succumbing to death, she fought like she had been reborn. He was curious what could have possibly inspired such a transformation. Why exactly had she let herself go?

Now that she was raw, Lotor saw an opportunity, to mold her into whatever his heart desired. If she proved to stubborn to control or keep his interest, he could always have her execute her. Expectations high, Lotor strode through the doors dividing the Solitary cells from the rest of the prisoners. 

And there she was, huddled in the furthest corner of your cell, crouched defensively as she likely had prepared to receive him, or whomever had put her here. Her eyes flicked up and down as she gave him a brief, analyzing once over, looking rather alert despite her obvious exhaustion. 

"You look way too important to be an ordinary guard," the girl surmised coldly, her voice hoarse but ringing in his ears like music. "Who are you?"

"How dare you even address his Majesty you filthy retch!" barked one guard, but her eyes did not once leave Lotor's, recognizing him as the far superior threat in the room.

"This is Prince Lotor, son of Emperor Zarkon! You will show him respect!" another reprimanded you.

"Or what? You'll throw me back into the Arena?" she challenged, her voice like venom. "Have you bastards replaced that announcer of yours so soon?"

Such fire.

With a simple raise of his hand, the guards held their tongues, albeit with difficulty. She boldly addressed him again, though she did appear to choose her next words carefully. 

"And what business could the infamous Galra Prince have with a savage like me?" she asked him guardedly, appearing to have some tact after all.

"A proposal," Prince Lotor began and she eyed him warily. "I was watching your match. I am curious, where in the Universe did you learn to fight like that?" he inquired. 

"I've never been formally trained in any form of combat," the maiden admitted. "I formally studied various forms of dance back on my planet. Any grace in my clumsy movements must come from that."

"So by merely adopting a different mindset you were able to completely alter your movements in battle," Lotor concluded, arms crossed across his chest, amused. "Fascinating."

"The offer," you reminded him, your tone like acid.

"I imagine few are pleased with your little stunt assaulting that sentry," Lotor began, letting your attitude slide for the time being, until you said anything that could actually offended him. He could always beat some respect into you later.

"Than few have any sense of humor," you remarked.

"Careful now," Lotor warned you, darkly enough to make you finally decide to hold your tongue. "Left to your own devices, it is unlikely you will survive much longer in the prisons," he took in your clearly malnourished form. "As for your mishap with the guard, it is safe to assume the bleakness of your future."

This time when you responded, your words did not channel your hatred, and Lotor wondered if your exhaustion and your injuries were finally starting to take their toll on you.

"Left to my own devices, I would have lead a peaceful life on my own planet with my mother, unlikely to have ever become a murderer." 

Such fire.

"What if I told you I could free you from this life?" Lotor continued, smirk spreading deeper across his lips.

"If your talking about my death then just get on with it already," you complained, and all you wanted to know was when you would finally be allowed to sleep.

"I mean your liberation," Lotor illustrated.

"If you mean to return me to my home planet, then don't waste your breath. I have no surviving family waiting for me there. Given what I've seen...what I've done...it's doubtful I could ever live an ordinary life as a civilian," you told him simply. "If I spewed a word about being abducted by aliens when our scientists have yet to discover life in our own, let alone an intergalactic war, I'd be branded a lunatic and locked away."

Lotor blinded at you, not expecting you to turn down any small hope of returning to your home world so critically. You just kept on surprising him.

"Pledge yourself to me, and I shall take you far away from these retched prisons. You will have freedom, never to fear the Arena again."

"Then if I had your loyalty, is there anything that you desire from me?" Lotor inquired. "Apart from anything as foolish as raising the dead."

"Strength. There is something that I have to do." Ah, there it was again. Your eyes as fire as they were ice.

"And what would you do with such power once you acquire it?" Lotor asked quizzically, suspenseful. You stood up then, on shaky As of that day, you became Prince Lotor’s protege. That night you were escorted from your cell onto a large battle cruiser. You were granted your own personal chambers, complete with normal lighting, a large plush bed, your own bathroom, and even a window. The heavy metal chains on your wrists and ankles were removed, but after having worn them for over a year, the marks lingered on your skin. Your body felt lighter without the additional weight of the heavy metal, but the deep red and purple scars on your wrists and ankles would likely remain. You shook your head at your own vanity, knowing full well that a few scars were the least of your worries now.

legs to cross the length of your cell to speak to him face to face. You were marginally shorter than he had initially calculated, standing at your full height well below his collarbone.

"I want the heads of the bastards that murdered my mother." 

At that Lotor smiled deviously, bending at the waist to get down to your level.

"Vengeance is it? Now that...that I can work with."

* * *

Starting tomorrow, Prince Lotor would be personally training you, and the pressure was on for you to produce promising results. If you struggled to keep up with the new training reginines or fail to keep Lotor’s attention, then he would throw you away. It angered you greatly, to have survived the Arena only to be at the mercy of the Galra Empire’s ruthless Prince. If you could only survive the first few months of training, regain some of your weight and muscle…

You wondered vaguely if Lotor would make good on his promise: to grant you the vengeance you craved for your mother’s death. But then what? What is left for you once you have avenged your mother? You could always off yourself if a life working for Lotor just wasn’t for you. That is, if he decides to keep you at his side for that long. If Lotor indeed was giving you the chance to essentially slaughter his own kind to see how you would do, then in his mind, everyone was disposable, including you. 

Glancing down at the torn and bloody rags that hung off your skinny form, you decided it was high time for a shower. Searching the room, you found a closet, discovering a flight suit decorated in the same colors as Lotor and his Generals. Ducking into the bathroom, you discarded the rags and pulled on the suit, surprised when it hugged your curves perfectly. You surmised that it must have been tailored specifically to your body, as you have yet to see a Galra anywhere near your size. There was little need for any sort of underwear, even if it made you feel a little dirty to go without any. The slight padding in the chest kept your breasts in place, and while the suit was tight fitting, the material clung to you modestly enough. 

It would be convenient to fight in, but you highly doubted you could sleep in it. You wondered if the Galra even had a concept of sleepwear, or maybe they just slept in their armor so they’d always be ready for combat. Perhaps they slept in the nude? You shuddered at the thought. No way were you sleeping naked as a captive on a Galra ship. For all you knew, you were being watched as this very moment through hidden cameras you could not see. 

When you failed to locate even a robe to lounge in, you retrieved your rags and brought them into the bathroom, deciding to wash them in the shower with you. Your prison uniform was damaged, but you’ve been wearing it for a year in the prisons, what’s a little longer? You hung the rags up on the glass shower wall to dry, hoping they would be ready to wear by tomorrow. For tonight, a towel would have to suffice. 

You had just slipped beneath the sheets of your bed, still wrapped in your towel, when Prince Lotor sauntered into the room. He smirked when he saw your shocked state and lack of attire, approaching the bed at a languid pace. Holding the sheets tighter against your body, you instinctively recoiled into yourself, inching farther into the bed ever so slightly. Lotor gave you a once over, apparently liking what he saw. Disgusting bastard. 

“Am I allowed to request something more comfortable to sleep in?” you ventured when he didn’t break the silence, taking in your every movement and expression. “I doubt I’ll be able to sleep in that flight suit.” Your stomach growled loudly then, your face heating up in embarrassment. “And perhaps something to eat?” 

“Listen to you, making yourself at home,” Lotor teased, and you were beginning to wonder if his face was capable of producing and expression that wasn’t smug. “I can arrange for both.”

“...Thank you,” you conceded, doubting an attitude would get you very far with the Prince. “So...is there anything I should know? About my whole “under your command” thing? Am I confined to this room until someone summons me? Not trying to get my head blown off by one of your soldiers because I was not where I should be.”

“You are free to roam the ship as you please. No one will hinder your movements. I have made certain of that,” Lotor informed you. “As for your training I will see to it that you are pushed to your limits.” 

You swallowed nervously, “Wonderful. May I make another request?” 

Lotor regarded you for a moment, a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “You may,” he granted.

“...I would like to learn the Galran language,” you ventured. “If you would permit me to learn it.”

“Was this a sudden interest?” Lotor inquired. You shook your head no.

“I have been in the Galra prisons for perhaps one, maybe two?...of my planets cycles, and the only phrases I may have picked up are likely too vulgar to use in proper conversation,” you blushed. “I haven’t the faintest idea how to use your technology, but if I am to be of any use to you, apart from aid in combat, then I believe it would benefit us both if I learn? At least so I can recognize an airlock so that I may throw myself out of it,” you deadpanned. 

Prince Lotor let out a hearty laugh, rumbling out of his chest like rolling thunder, and if the sound had not come from him, it may have reminded you of the thunderstorms back in Florida. Back home. Perhaps dark, self scathing comments were the route to go with him.

“That is exactly why I find you so intriguing, Human. You are so blunt, I can never predict what you are going to say next. It is absolutely refreshing, really,” the Prince chuckled, still fighting to reign in his laughing. “Most in your position would be afraid to speak their minds so easily.”

“I never said I was smart,” you glared. “Was that laughing a no to me learning Galran?”

“I shall consider it, but only,” Lotor conditioned, bending at the waist until each of his hands rested at your sides on your bed, caging you, “if you survive our sparring match tomorrow.”

Surprising you both, you sighed in exhaustion, before leaning backwards until you were lying flat on the bed. You turned onto your side, and therefore away from Lotor. 

“Then I suppose I’ll never learn Galran, if you’re in such a rush to kill me,” you huffed, eyes tearing up and feeling like a whining child that didn’t get their way.

“You doubt yourself,” Lotor stated, propping his head up on one hand a he lingered over you. “Are you so certain you will lose so spectacularly? You fought well enough in the Arena.” 

“Yes, against an unintelligent, uncalculating animal. I’ve heard the rumors about your combat skills, especially as a pilot and with a sword. You’re practically a legend in the prisons. Besides, if you had no skill at all as a fighter, then you wouldn’t be nearly this confident,” you reasoned, before adding under your breath, “or so full of yourself...” 

“Perhaps what you need to build your confidence is to learn where you stand in combat. For some, all it takes is to be defeated and to be humbled once to set them on the path of improvement,” Lotor offered, sounding like some cliche old man offering up some knowledge. Considering the Galra’s longevity, perhaps this was an accurate assessment on your part. It almost felt like the Prince was...trying to cheer you up? 

But before you could analyze his actions further, your stomach growled loudly, promptly ending your precious conversation. 

“I shall have some food sent in,” Lotor offered teasingly, and you wondered why his expression suddenly looked less menacing than it usually did.

* * *

You were brought a variety of strange foods, only able to pick around your meal, the textures and flavors to foreign for you to stomach much of it. Unable to sleep, you chose instead to wander about the ship, as Lotor expressed you were allowed to do so. 

It was frustrating, to do struggle with seemingly easy tasks like operating an elevators, the screens not reacting to her human touch. But after a few grumbling guards here and there that had to deactivate the string of alarms you ended up setting off, you eventually started to find your way around. In the elevator you counted twelve floors, not bothering to try and read what each had been listed, as they were all in Galran. 

Exiting the elevator, you followed the winding corridors to what looked like a mess hall, cringing when you saw the gruel the soldiers were eating. You wondered if the fancy foods you had been allowed to eat were some sort of Galran delicacies. Perhaps you should make a greater effort to eat more of the food you were given, you thought, before they revoke the privilege and start feeding you the raw, bloody meats the soldiers were partaking in. 

On the tenth floor, you discovered what appeared to be the ship’s training room. Reluctant to enter, you peered into the gym through a large window the size of an entire wall, likely meant for viewing the gym below. Two aliens were intensely sparring with one another, both appearing to be women. The two looked equally matched, merely toying with one another more than anything, neither seeming to take their fight seriously. 

Sensing you almost immediately, both women paused to turn to you, sizing you up much like you had Lotor when you first met him. One of them you recognized, the one with blue skin and navy hair, the same woman who had accompanied Prince Lotor when he came to visit you in Isolation. The other alien had red skin with various colorful markings adorning her face, as well as a long appendage coming out of her head that you couldn’t quite tell was part of her skull or not. Perhaps it was something like a tail? 

The more Galran woman of the two narrowed her eyes at you in what you felt was disdain and contempt, while the other woman smiled cheerfully. In a phase of color the red skinned woman disappeared and you blinked, wondering just where the Hell she had gone. About two seconds later, she appeared on the other side of the glass wall, directly in front of you, startling you. They had been a full floor below you, did she climb up or...jump? She began speaking animatedly, smiling down at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes, but you could not hear her through the thick glass of the wall. You gestured as much, as politely possible, so she waved for you to join them, pointing a clawed finger towards a nearby door. 

Not wishing to do anything to piss her off as well, you nodded hesitantly, before cautiously entering the training deck. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Writer's Block is a bitch, but I'm trying to rekindle the fire I first had for this story when I first created it. I pretty much know what I want to write next but it's finding the will to do it that's been kicking my ass. I've got several other stories in the works on Archive, so while I'm keeping up with them for the time being and starting on a few other ideas, I still want to finish what I started here. If only for the few of you guys that have taken any interest in this story, and I'm sorry I haven't been posting recently. Hopefully there will be more of this to come!

Bonds Beyond the Stars

Chapter 4

* * *

“You must be that human everyone’s been buzzing about,” the red skinned alien woman rang in a high, almost shrill voice. Her tone was clear as a bell, but you would hate to hear her yell. 

“Uh that’s me,” you offered shyly. “Hello.” 

“Well nice to meet you! My name is Ezor, and this is-”

“Axca,” the blue skinned woman announced curtly. Her lips were pursed in annoyance, as if she had just eaten something sour. “Why are you not in your room?”

“Considering I only recently discovered the existence of the Galran Empire, and how in awe I still find myself whenever regarding your far more advanced technology, do you really think I could manage to escape from my rooms?” you asked Axca rhetorically, the woman already tap dancing on the remnants of your sanity. “Lotor gave me leave to explore the ship.”

Axca was silent with a burning fury, while Ezor laughed hysterically. 

“I like her! I like her a lot,” Ezor exclaimed approvingly. “Don’t mind Axca, she’s always been a stick in the quicksand.” 

“Noted,” you acknowledged dryly, before finding it in your best interests to try and change the subject. “Were the two of you training just now?”

“I don’t know, were you breathing just now?” Axca added unnecessarily. 

“Yes, unfortunately,” you brushed her off. “Too bad it has to be the same stale air as your own.” 

Axca flinched as if to lunge at you, but Ezor held her comrade back with a dismissive wave of her hand and a whistle. “Do you two wanna settle this with a match?” 

“My battle in the Arena is the only combat experience I have,” you admitted. “I saw you two train just now. There’s no way I could even hope to entertain you both with my lack of skill.” 

“So you’re a coward,” Axca stated rather than asked, before finally losing her temper. “I cannot even begin to fathom what Lotor sees in you. Your match is hardly what I would call impressive. You fought like an animal.”

“Perhaps, but at least I am not acting like one,” you quipped bitterly. 

“What was that?!” Axca yelled, turning an even darker shade of blue, and you wondered vaguely if it was a blush.

“Did I stutter? Or have I overestimated how well you Galran bastards can hear?”

* * *

-Lotor-

Lotor viewed your interaction with each of his Generals with interest through the transparent screen of a floating hologram. The Prince was amused by your ferocity, and of the murderous intent in your dark eyes. After several snide remarks were tossed about, you agreed to hold a match with Axca. 

You suffered from a split lip and likely a concussion, as well as several obvious contusions all over your body, but still you continued to rise, finding the will to stumble back onto your feet. 

You hadn’t lasted very long at all, though he doubted you would against Axca from the start. But still you forced yourself to rise after each beating, demanding a rematch in hopes of redeeming yourself enough to at least land a hit on Axca. Lotor trusted that Axca knew better than to kill you, however, it was clear to all that even the patience of his most talented General was wearing thin. 

What irked Prince Lotor though was your clear hatred for the Galra, which he both expected from you and understood himself better than anyone. He needed to show you that the animosity you felt for the Galra was at least somewhat misdirected, their mindsets a direct result of being raised in the ruthlessness of the Empire.

* * *

You glared up at Axca from the floor, fighting to get back on your feet as she glared down at you. 

“I’m sorry...that my existence...is such an annoyance to you,” you huffed out sarcastically, finding it increasingly difficult to breathe as the seconds passed, but you couldn’t decide if it was from all of the drop kicks to the ribs or from one of the many times Axca had sent you to the floor. “And I’m also sorry...that your dear Prince Lotor is giving me all of his attention...instead of giving it to you.”

“How dare you speak to me of jealousy!” Axca snarled from above you, as you laid in a heap on the ground, prompting her to pull you up roughly by your hair while you screamed in agony. 

The sound of you in pain made Lotor frown, but whatever emotion he might have felt tightening in his chest the Prince buried it deep within him. He cataloged his body’s reaction to seeing you in pain and filed it away for later, which took decidedly more effort from him than he would have liked.

“Are you angry at me because I am human…” you struggled, ignoring the searing pain assaulting your scalp, and the blood that was beginning to run down your face, “...or because I am right?”

Axca only glared at you, returning you to the mats harshly while you fought to keep conscious. 

“You sure did mess her up,” Ezor whistled yet again, though her voice sounded far away. “Prince Lotor’s gonna be ma-ad,” she sang, resting her cheek lazily against her hand. 

“I inflicted no permanent damage. Nothing a healing capsule cannot remedy,” Axca rationalized, turning away from you. Her mistake. 

Surging upwards on shaky legs, you tackled Axca to the ground, being quick to roll out of her reach, get a little distance and stand before she could do the same. You took the two seconds it took for Axca to stand to take a well needed breath and steel yourself for the fight to come. That was when time started to slow down. You were up against a seasoned fighter. If you couldn’t remain calm, then it was over for you. Keeping in mind that Lotor was probably holed up somewhere watching your every move, you only prayed he was enjoying the show. 

“It appears that you lack more than just combat skills,” Axca growled impatiently, raising her fists in preparation for your next onslaught. 

“We’ll see about that,” you told her simply, albeit with a great deal of more confidence than you felt. 

‘_Rise, human. Find a weakness in her technique, and strike. Maintain eye contact with her so she does not know what you are planning_,’ a familiar voice rang from the collar of your suit. It was Lotor. And wherever he was, he was watching. 

"You don't honestly believe I stand a chance against her?" you whispered back harshly.

‘_That all depends on you. Inspire me_.’

As much as you would've loved to make some snappy comment in response to his ego, you decided instead to take a breath and clear your head. You were up against a seasoned fighter; if you couldn't remain calm, then it was over. Keeping in mind that you were being watched by Lotor himself, you could only hope that he was enjoying the show. 

"Again," you demanded, addressing Acxa. 

"It appears you lack more than just combat skills," the woman complied, turning to face you as you rose to your feet again, readying for her next onslaught. Cunt was calling you stupid upstairs now, so you were more than just pissed. 

"We'll see," was all you said in reply. 

She sprinted towards you with blinding speed, but this time you focused solely on defense, tumbling and lunging just out of her range. Head still spinning from her previous barrage of attacks, you fought to keep focused hoping to find some flaw in her stance, or an off swing, or really anything that could help you. 

She reacted to every movement you made with perfect, calculated strikes. She was driving you back, and you found that you were rapidly losing ground. If the fight kept going like this... 

"I have an idea," you whispered into your hidden radio, knowing that wherever the thing was located on your suit’s collar, Lotor had heard you. 

You led Acxa further and further back, dodging most of her attacks as you were able. For the first time since the match had begun, you went on the offensive, throwing sweeping kicks and punches her way. Acxa evaded all of your pathetic onslaughts with enviable ease, but still you kept them coming, hoping to force her to remain on the defensive long enough to... 

Losing her footing on the edge of a large body of water (how in the shit was the water in the pool _staying _in the pool when we were in space again?), Acxa soon found herself falling, with nothing to grab to prevent plunging into the water. She was an amazing fighter, but she had let you get under her skin enough so that she lost her focus, and failed to pay attention to her surroundings. The sound of Ezor's laughter filled the entire gym. 

‘_Well played, human_,’ Lotor's approving voice rang through my radio. ‘_I_ _am interested to see how well you will fare when we battle_.’

"I'm not," you muttered, voice filled with dread. You groaned painfully, feeling your new wounds in full force now that the adrenaline had begun to fade with the stress of fighting Acxa. "Now about those healing pod thingies?" 

‘_I'll meet you on the seventh floor_.’ 

After pausing to say a brief goodbye to Ezor, who had been civil enough to earn some of your respect, you excused yourself, explaining that you were going meet with Lotor. Excusing yourself, you practically limped out of the training center, somehow managing to retrace your steps and navigate the elevators to the seventh floor. 

When the elevator's doors opened, Lotor directed for you to turn left, and then turn right into the next hallway, until you reached the end of the corridor. With only one door at the end of the hallway, you assumed it to be where Lotor and those healing pods were. So you entered – and practically ran face first into Lotor's chest. 

You flinched back, startled, having not expected the sudden proximity. 

"Had a bit of trouble, did you?" Lotor asked knowingly, in the Galran accent that reminded you so much of the British dialects back on Earth. Ha, maybe all Brits were part Galran. 

"That was humiliating," you said defeatedly, panting a little and holding your side. "Acxa could have killed me whenever she wanted to. Yeah, she lost her focus, but she was clearly the better fighter. I would've had a better chance in the Arena." 

"Though there is much to improve upon on your end, I do not consider your accomplishment a loss by any means," Lotor praised. "If you had been armed, then you could have easily shot her down while she struggled in the water. Had the situation been life or death, then you would have been victorious, instead of Acxa." 

Upon noticing you finding it difficult to breathe, Lotor guided me to a row of huge glass pods, the cylinders as high as the ceilings. He typed a few quick sequences, before opening the glass door to one of the pods. You were reluctant to enter. 

"Are you afraid?" Lotor inquired, though he knew damn well that you were. 

"...Will I feel any pain?" you asked fearfully, voice sounding small. 

"Not at all," Lotor assured, typing in another quick sequence before walking up behind you, though you didn't turn to face him. He placed a hand on your shoulder, coming around in front of you. "You will be in a deep sleep for the entire healing process." 

You eyed the pod warily, before forcing yourself to step into it. "...How long will it take?" 

"It depends on the extent of one's injuries, but in your case..." Lotor gave me a quick once over. "Perhaps a few of your Earth hours." 

You turned away from him again, as you had begun to shake visibly. You didn't trust your expression, and knew you were likely going to cry. 

"There is nothing to fear, Nicole," Lotor assured again. 

"...We don't have anything this advanced on my planet. Forgive me for being...skeptical." 

The glass doors closed around you then, and you could feel yourself beginning to panic. Holding your sides, you backed up against the far end of the glass, before sliding down to sit, knees pulled up to your chest. 

"Nicole," Lotor's voice echoed through the thick glass, and soon he was right in front of the pod. He knelt down in front of you, placing one large hand on the glass. "Close your eyes, and focus on your breathing. Take slow, deep breaths." 

He actually managed to look genuinely worried. He was a great actor, effortlessly deceitful. But you did as you were told, and after a moment began to feel dizzy, senses fading as if you were in a tunnel. 

"Good," you could faintly hear Lotor say. "Worry not. You'll have your strength back soon." 

"...Don't...leave me..." you pleaded, but you weren't really sure why. Anything was better than being alone. It was as if you was drunk, any filter fading away along with the fleeting image of Lotor's form. "...Momma..." 

* * *

Lotor 

Something about Nicole's vulnerable state made Lotor's heart clench unwillingly. How pathetic she looked, curled in on herself and crying out for her mother in a moment of drowsy confusion. For a girl so full of anger and fire, Lotor found it hard to believe that this was the same person who killed two in the Arena, and bested one of his most skilled fighters. 

Hesitating for only a second, Lotor left Nicole, deciding to look up the details of her capture in the Prisoner logs. He had remembered her mentioning that the Galra had attacked her ship, taking her along with the humans she had come with. She had mentioned the Galra killing her mother. Perhaps in the explosion? 

Wanting more information, Prince Lotor scrolled through the logs, finding the identities of the soldiers who had commandeered Nicole's vessel. Curiosity piqued, Lotor saved the logs to one of his personal drives, before returning to the check on Nicole in the healing room.

In her unit, she twitched fitfully, her nightmares likely stimulated by the excited particles of the pod. Just what was she dreaming about? Punching in a sequence of codes into the control panel, Prince Lotor entered the pod nearest Nicole's. 

After establishing a mental link with Nicole through the capsule, Prince Lotor viewed the girl's dreams with his own eyes. 

The scenery around him evaporated, and suddenly they were in some sort of school. He noticed the other students snickering at Nicole from across the room, as well as how isolated she was seated from her peers. Lotor looked down over Nicole's shoulder to view what she had been working on. The material on the instructor's board appeared to be some form of primitive human mathematics, but Nicole was in the middle of drawing a mountainous landscape, blanketed by glimmering stars and constellations. 

The scenery changed again, and now he was in Nicole's home. Nicole talked animatedly to her mother, a woman not much taller than herself but with golden hair instead of brown. They were planning what sounded like a vacation. Camping in the mountains. 

Then they were in the cramped compartment of an aircraft. An explosion. Then they were falling. Nicole exchanged a heartfelt goodbye with her mother whilst both were on the verge of certain death. They truly thought it was over. But then they weren't falling anymore, and Nicole watched as her mother plummeted helplessly to her death, a Galran ship pulling her daughter roughly aboard. 

Then they were in the prisons, and Lotor watched helplessly as Nicole and her fellow humans were tortured and beaten. Then they were in the Arena, and Lotor felt Nicole's anger and near crippling fear firsthand as she killed for the first time. 

Lotor focused his mind, willing his consciousness to return to reality before he witnessed any more of the girl's horrors, when the scene changed to a cell. Intrigued, Lotor let his conscience continue to mingle with Nicole's, before none other than himself stepped into view. It was the day they had first met. He sensed her skepticism, and her pulse racing at the sight of him. To her, he was just another Galra, mixed or not. A monster. She truly was afraid of him. 

But then the scenery changed yet again, and Nicole was exploring the ship. Some of the corridors were distorted in her dream-like state, and Nicole ran around desperately, trying to find an exit. She didn't. 

Sensing that Nicole would soon be waking, Lotor at last willed himself awake, exiting her subconscious. Opening his eyes, Lotor exited his pod before walking over to Nicole floated in her own, still sleeping. He took in her pale skin and her dark hair, which danced around her in the foggy particles of her capsule. 

Nicole was just a victim, thrown into the horrors of a war his father had started, her peaceful life shattered in an instant. He checked her vitals on the monitors, confirming that Nicole's wounds were fully healed. Opening her pod, Lotor caught Nicole's limp body as it tumbled out of her capsule. 

Gathering her in his arms, Prince Lotor personally returned Nicole to her chambers.


	5. Chapter 5

Bonds Beyond the Stars

Chapter Five

* * *

-Nicole-

You were not sure who carried you back to the room, but woke up in your own bed, tucked under the sheets. Sitting up groggily, you stretched, feeling better than you had in months. No longer plagued by your injuries, you stood up easily, letting the comforter fall from your body, which was covered only by a thin robe.

You blushed furiously, wondering who the Hell had changed your clothes while you were out. You felt your cheeks burn even more at the thought of Lotor changing you himself. No way, he was a Prince, right? He probably had like tons of servants on this ship. You just prayed that they were female and not Acxa.

Taking a deep breath to steady your now racing heart, you crossed the room, locating the jumpsuit draped over the door to the closet. You washed your face in the bathroom and rinsed your mouth out with some cinnamon smelling liquid - that easily could have been anything but toothpaste, but whatever - before pulling on the suit. You fumbled to reach the zipper in the back for a minute, praying Lotor couldn't hear you struggling over the radio built into its collar. Your hair would probably get in the way though.

Looking around, you decided the only thing around to tie it back with was the silk ribbon of your robe. It was a bit long, but better than nothing. After pulling your hair into a high ponytail, you took another deep breath, and exited the room. You made it all the way to the tenth floor easily, glad that you remembered the way to the training deck.

You found Prince Lotor in the middle of a sparring match with all four of his Generals.

He was wearing his trademark smirk, parrying all of their kicks and punches with the back side of his sword easily. It was as if he were toying with them. A sense of dread overcame you as you watched the match continue for several more minutes, and it was several more minutes before any of the Generals began to show any signs of tiring. Lotor still looked fresh and ready for anything, not even a gleam of sweat betraying his energetic demeanor. It was ridiculously discouraging, to see the stamina they all possessed, especially Lotor, when you had barely gotten the better of Acxa.

Oh God you were so, so fucked.

Glancing up for the first time since he had initially noticed your presence, Prince Lotor threw his sword like a spear at one of his Generals, before diving dramatically to catch them off guard while they dodged his airborne weapon. He flipped them over his shoulder, and they landed in a heap on the ground. Though they were winded, Lotor lifted the General up, using their body as if it weighed little more than a shield, defending from the other three Generals barrage of attacks. Lotor rushed his other two generals, retrieving his sword on the way, before vaulting over their shoulders, and dumping the first General onto them to knock them to their feet.

Three down, one to go, and this one was Acxa.

Undeterred, Lotor readied himself, and after a few seconds of intense eye contact, both engaged in the most intense sword fight you had ever seen. It was as if they didn't have to think about their movements at all, contemplating only how the other would strike next. But Acxa was far more tired than Lotor, and with one swift sweep of his arm and the ring of clanging metal, Acxa's sword went flying, as she was disarmed.

"That's enough for today," Lotor announced, taking in the way his Generals practically gasped for air. He shared a look with Acxa. "Dismissed."

They others pulled themselves to their feet, well one of them had a dark, scale-covered tail that reminded you of a lizard, before all three saluted Lotor respectfully, before taking their leave. Acxa glared at me on her way out, and you returned it with your own.

Then Lotor turned to you.

"Are you ready?" Lotor asked, thankfully sheathing his sword on his hip, before placing it on a table on the far side of the room, covered in weapons.

"Aren't you tired after all of that?" you asked, failing to mask the amazement in your voice.

"That was merely a warm up," Lotor said boredly, stepping back onto the mats. "Come. We will start hand to hand for now. I wish to gauge your current strength."

Stepping onto the mats, you hesitated when reminded again just how much taller Lotor was. A foot maybe? A foot and a half? The guy had to be pushing seven feet, easy.

You swallowed hard.

Lotor raised his fists.

"Shall you make the first move, or shall I?" Lotor offered almost assuredly, still smiling but probably getting tired of your shit.

In answer, you cracked your neck, before sprinting towards him at full force, but Lotor was faster. Kicking your feet out from beneath you with one long sweep of his legs even longer legs, soon you were falling backwards. Reacting with reflexes you didn't even know you had, you shifted your weight midair, rolling out of his reach, before springing to your feet.

"Good," Lotor complimented as he made a swing for your head, which you somehow managed to dodge by ducking out of the way. "Use your smallness and your speed to your advantage against larger opponents."

It angered you that he was just toying with you. No, not toying, he toyed with his Generals, who were masters of various styles of combat. Lotor was simply amusing himself with you. Fear of being struck evaporating, you stood up straight, deliberately taking a hard blow to the side of your head, in order to glare at him.

"I am not your plaything!" you whispered bitterly, meaning to yell but rendered too dizzy from taking his inhumanely strong punch, and reminding yourself that he was actually holding back. Ears ringing, blood now trailed down your wounded and leaked onto his gloved hand.

Removing his fist carefully from the side of your head, Lotor straightened to stand at his full height. Okay, you were wrong, because the guy was at least two feet taller, not one. Why do you always seem to lose my temper around the huge purple alien again?

"You have the eyes of a warrior," he told me approvingly. "Enough of this. You pose little challenge for me with your current level of skill." Lotor turned around. "Come with me."

Ears still ringing from his punch, you trailed numbly after him, down the hall and into a separate, yet still large room. There was a panel on the wall, its buttons lighting up beneath Lotor's touch.

"Begin training sequence, Level 78," Lotor said, before a metal robot came out of a compartment beneath the floor. Lotor sparred with it for an intense moment, before ending the training sequence. "Start with Level l 1, and work your way up. Contact me once you have reached Level 20."

"What happens after level 20?" you asked skeptically.

"You will need a weapon from that point onward. I will assess your current skill level, and grant you a weapon of your choice. I will personally be monitoring your progress. Do strive to impress me, Human."

'_I hope I can survive the simulations_,' you thought ruefully.

"I'll send someone to treat your wound," Lotor informed. "You will be allowed into the healing chambers at the end of the day. Any damage you take from now until then you will have to endure."

"Understood," you saluted with a fist over your heart as you had seen other soldiers do, and it must have impressed him because Prince Lotor cracked a smile that looked like approval.

* * *

It took a week to get to Level 5. Levels 1 through 4 were simply dodging and blocking punches, and returning the blows. Every day you sported bruised, bloody knuckles. What you really needed to do was stop going to the healing pods every night, because by repairing the damage to your hands every day, it was impossible for to develop any calluses.

It took a week and a half to get to Level 10, and your bruises soon became full contusions, as the simulations began to incorporate kicks along with the punches, each packed with all of the power of a Galran soldier.

By the end of the month, you had reached Level 17, before finally breaking down and using the healing pod to heal a broken wrist. You had only remained in the pod for an hour or so, afraid that any prolonged amount would erase the calluses around your knuckles.

You had gotten used to the bland Galran meals, finding that you were only ever able to stomach a certain type of soup and some bread, the rest too foreign for your body to handle. You had built up some muscle over the course of the month, but due to the lack of variety in your diet, it felt as if you had lost more weight overall than what little muscle you may have gained.

You had finally reached Level 20 on the sixth week, but had decided to take the afternoon off, as Lotor and his Generals had departed through a wormhole after receiving intel that Voltron and its Paladins were sighted on a nearby moon.

You remember limping back to your room sometime around noon, hoping to sleep off the pain of your wounds. Using the healing pods was useful, but it was as if your body was being thrown back in time, undoing any damage as well as any muscle you may have built after a hard day's training. The last thing you recall was stepping into your room, and hearing the metal automatic door to the chambers swish shut - and then nothing - as you had promptly passed out on the floor, unable to make the small walk to the bed.

But you were not in the same room when you finally woke up.

* * *

-Lotor-

The Prince had concluded that the disappearance of Voltron's original human Paladin had inspired several of the Lions to choose new pilots, including a new leader. Out of the five lions, only the Yellow and Green lions seemed to know what they were doing. The Blue lion's Paladin was unable to fly in a straight line, much less defend or attack anyone, so it made for the perfect target.

The Red lion was too fast for its Paladin, often racing out of formation before furiously backtracking to its allies. The Red lion's pilot - judging by its jerky, irritated flight pattern - seemed to be quarreling with the Pilot of the Black lion, who was acting like anything but a Leader in terms of air combat.

In the end, Lotor had let Voltron escape, deciding he had gathered enough data on them for the time being, and that it would be quite a while before they would ever threaten him by fighting as a team.

Once out of the airlock, Lotor removed his helmet, freeing his long, snowy locks. He headed to the training deck, to check in on Nicole to see if she had made any progress. When he failed to locate her, he decided to look over her progress, pleased to see that the girl had made it to Level 20 in his absence. Lotor checked the cameras, wondering if she had managed to injure herself so badly she had escaped into a healing pod. She wasn't there either.

Knowing it was impossible for someone who knew so little about Galran technology to escape into the void of Space on her own, Lotor decided to check Nicole's room.

He found her on the floor, unconscious.

He crouched down beside her in an instant, gathering Nicole into his arms. Had Nicole always been this light?

Lotor made his way to the seventh floor of the ship, placing the still unconscious Nicole into the first healing pod he laid his eyes on. Lotor checked her stats, surprised to find that she was hardly injured, suffering more from poor nourishment and exhaustion than anything else.

Prince Lotor noted Nicole had begun to develop a fair amount of calluses around her knuckles and shins, spotting several fractures in the bones of her fingers, as well as a number in her shins. Lotor hadn't expected the girl to ignore the pains of broken bones for as long as the monitors had revealed, and decided to give her a large dose of Calcium after discovering Nicole's human bones were primarily made of it, down to their marrow.

He checked her pod using history, finding it unsettling to see that she had hardly used them at all as of late. It was no wonder she was in such a pitiful state. He set the healing pod to nourishing mode, hoping to replenish the proteins and vitamins Nicole somehow hadn't been getting. Lotor made a mental note to question the ship's cook what exactly she had been eating - or not eating, as the case may be.

Lotor kept her in the pod for half a day, knowing that Nicole likely needed it, though he adjusted the pod's emissions somewhat, hoping her brain would be less stimulated that way, so that she would have fewer nightmares. Once he was satisfied Nicole was completely healed, Lotor took her in his arms once again, but this time he did not return her to her own chambers.


End file.
